


When everything is the same and nothing really is

by Snoozydog



Series: Sleeping arrangements [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Jealous John Watson, Jealousy, M/M, Mycroft is not happy, Neither is Lestrade, POV Greg Lestrade, Unrequited Love, jealous lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog
Summary: John and Sherlock are a couple now and Lestrade tries coping with that. It's not that easy to pretend like nothing has changed, when everything actually has.





	When everything is the same and nothing really is

It’s all very different now, and yet some things are like they have always been.

That thing when Sherlock enters his crime scenes or his office and insults the hell out of everybody, makes inappropriate comments and unorthodox choices in his investigations, that still remains.

He looks the same, acts the same, talks the same and yet, something has shifted and Lestrade gest an uneasy feeling in his stomach every time he sees him know.

It’s John Watson of course and Lestrade curses the day that army doctor stepped into Sherlock’s life and just planted himself there, right in the middle of it, building up the courage during time and finally, like a spectacular magic trick gets the prince and the whole kingdom as well.

They reign supreme in Baker Street now, no longer just living together but forming a unit, a couple who has everything that Lestrade wants, but can’t have.

Not with Sherlock anyway.

He can still remember the time he sensed it, the change.

They just walked on to a crime scene, Sherlock up front, John in the back, like all the other times they have arrived to help.  
But there was something different this time, like electricity in the air and while not understanding it at first, it suddenly hit him, like sledgehammer straight to his head. _They’re sleeping together!_

The way John gave him one of his dark glares, the one that had become a permanent fixture on his face since that damned photo in the papers, a mixture of Back the hell off and He’s mine! And as if feeling the need to confirm it, his hand had possessively landed on Sherlock’s arm, his eyes still firmly turned towards Lestrade, driving the point home.

Sherlock had merely glanced down at the hand on his arm before continuing with what he was doing, namely addressing a junior officer about his incompetence. Like he always did.

And yet, everything was different now.

Lestrade suppressed his feelings that day, pushed them so far away from his mind as he could, just to survive the day.  
Thankfully the case was solved quickly, there was no further need for more visits from the dynamic duo and the next time he saw them, a few weeks later, he came better prepared.

Feelings bottled-up, his armour intact, he could pretend like things were like they always had been and John eventually stopped rubbing his nose in it.  
But he didn’t stop coming along on cases. Apparently there were limits to his willingness to let Sherlock out of his sight, especially when there was a chance of Lestrade being present.

They never did talk about it though.

They never hashed it out and Lestrade didn’t know if he should be grateful for that fact or not. He didn’t like this situation between them, he didn’t like John full stop, but if it made Sherlock happy, fine, he could try to tolerate it and move on.

The next uncomfortable situation came after an incident where Sherlock ended up injured with a concussion.  
Watson took him to the A&E of course with Lestrade arriving an hour later, just to check on how the consultant detective was faring.  
In the waiting room he bumped into Mycroft Holmes, striding towards him in his usual tweedy splendour and umbrella in hand.  
He was clearly departing, but stopped to greet Lestrade, all shallow politeness and formality as usual.

They never had warmed towards each other despite all the years, Lestrade wasn’t sure if Mycroft Holmes was even capable of understanding the concept of connecting with another human being, but there was at least a mutual understanding between them that both did their best to look out for Sherlock.  
Lestrade thought that the elder Holmes was a bit too overprotective with his CCT cameras and constant meddling into his brothers affairs and sometimes he wondered if Mycroft knew what Lestrade felt for his brother and what had happened between them that night, long ago, when they ended up sleeping with each other.

 _Best not dwell on that_ , was his usual reprimand whenever that thought popped up in his head and as Mycroft never said anything to hint that he knew something about, it it was easy to keep ignoring that incident.

This time, Mycroft did not look very pleased though.  
After the initial greetings and exchanging of polite formalities, there came a quick contemplation of his umbrella handle while weighing his words carefully, before finally nodding his head towards the door Sherlock apparently was behind, resting. Most likely with John as his companion in the room.

“New developments, Detective Inspector”, he said curtly. As if it was Lestrade’s fault that his brother was sleeping with his flatmate now.

“Yes, seems like it”, Lestrade finally offered, unsure of what was wanted from him.

“How are we feeling about that then?”

Lestrade shrugged and Mycroft frowned a displeased frown and everything and nothing was said between them without the need for words. _This is a complicated mess and it will most likely end in heartache and frustration passed between them._ There was a mutual understanding between them about that scenario at least, even if neither of them said anything negative out loud.

Then Mycroft just nodded and kept walking.  
He wasn’t pleased and that somehow delighted Lestrade.

Because Mycroft Holmes could be a downright bastard when he wanted to be and that self-important smirk on John Watson’s face could be wiped from his features in a noot to distant future if they were lucky.

Unable to hide his grin at that thought he stepped into the room and faced the two doomed lovers.  
If he noticed the lovebite on Sherlock pale neck or the slightly swollen lips, most likely from a passionate kiss just being made, he ignored it and felt his armour close around his feelings again, bracing himself.  
_Because things are the same_ , he told himself.

Even if everything was different now.


End file.
